Contract
by Misery Curtains
Summary: "The catch," she said as she slowly took the floppy disk from Zim's mouth, a tiny drop of green saliva dropping on to her index finger, "is that you must do something for me. A favour or task for me, another floppy for you." (CURRENTLY ON INDEFINITE HIATUS)
1. Here be my Proposition

Beep boop bop, so went her Game Slave 2. Little thumbs jammed the buttons deeper into the handheld, she played with all her might. Her eyes, those melted amber orbs, darted every which way. On the tiny led screen, pigs exploded into red and pink giblets, filling her with a sense of otherworldly dominance. But then, the door-bell rang out, and Gaz Membrane knew EXACTLY what was to follow.

A pair of feet came darting behind the couch, stopping at the front door. Gaz tried to tune out the transaction, the third one this week, going down within earshot, but she had piggies to kill. The door then slammed closed (she never noticed it open), and the feet scurried behind her again. Unfortunately for her, she was relying too much on the footsteps' synchronicity to keep her focused, so when they tripped up, so did she. A bloated piggy with a flamethrower torched her character to death, and once again, like some daily ritual, she threw the Game Slave 2 on the floor with a crack and stormed off to the kitchen. There, like a trench-coat mafia reject, stood Dib holding a slice of the cheese and pepperoni pie, fresh from Bloaty's.

"YOU FAGGOT!"

"What-"

SLAP!

Gaz backhanded her brother and stared him down while also taking the entire pizza box, with the seven other pieces still in it, back to the living room.

Dib just sighed. Why the hell could he never remember to listen for Gaz playing her game whenever he ordered pizza? He rubbed his cheek and walked back to his bedroom. In that domain of his, a Skype call with some fellow Swollen Eyeball members had devolved into a belligerent barrage of shitty theories and small dick jokes.

"Hey, I'm gonna call it a night, folks. This shit is too outta hand."

Before waiting for a response, he hung up and sighed. Biting into his pizza, he scrolled through some document files and transcripts sent to him for processing and analysis, courtesy of his mentor Dark Booty. He still had the note he had been given after turning in all his evidence on Zim. It read:

'You did good, kid. Sorry about the tribunal. The world just isn't ready. But one day, it will be. And I know you'll save us.

-Dark Booty.'

It was perched on the bottom of his centre monitor, on a little blue post-it note. He half-smiled at it; it was a reminder of how far he'd come, a vindication of sorts. The tribunal had nearly fucked him over, but no one was going to doubt what he had accomplished. The evidence was staggering enough-

"DIB!"

Goddammit, he thought with an air of defeat.

"I'm going out!"

"K!" Dib replied.

He could hear Gaz clamour down the stairs with urgency. He shrugged and went back to munching away once the door lock sounded off.

—

The house- that ugly tacky house- stood in the same lot as it always had. The gnomes watched all, but saw nothing. The whirring pipes and metal tentacles were still lodged into the sides of the neighbouring houses. Gir was out on the front lawn, puking up chocolate bubble gum slushy on to the surprisingly well-kept lawn. For reasons unknown, he felt like doing so made his disguise more believable, after studying the dogs in the area. Elsewhere, underneath the house, in some obscure chamber in the deeper recesses of his multi-faceted lair, Zim was hunched over an operating table, trying to perfect his robot gopher. As he delicately approached a bloody green wire with metallic purple pliers, Gir came barraging in, causing Zim to drop the pliers into the robot gopher's dissected body and detonating it. Gore and organs splattered everywhere, and Zim and Gir were thoroughly covered in wires and tiny red intestines.

Zim sighed. "Great," he said, "now I have to start over. GIR!"

"Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaas?

"Bring me another gopher from cryo. Preferably a fresh one."

"But we's all out!"

Zim spun around and looked at the little hunk o' junk. "Eh? COMPUTER!"

The omniscient computer coughed and hacked a bit before responding.

"There are no gophers in cryo currently."

"WHY NOT?"

"Because you used them all, you carnophobic banshee."

"Shit. Shit shit shit."

Suddenly, a great red alarm came out of a hole in the ceiling and began wailing fanatically. To Zim's dismay, Gir's confusion, and the computer's indifference, the proximity alarm had been triggered. Someone had trespassed on the property.

Zim launched himself into the elevator, Gir is tow. By the time they were expelled from the kitchen toilet, they had their sub-average disguises on and saw that the robo-parents were answering the door, as dictated by their programming.

"Zim, you fuck-head, get out here."

Zim and Gir stared at each other. The Dib-stink's sibling? Then, with great force, the terrifying angel of destruction known as Gaz Membrane broke through the robo-parents blockade (or lack thereof) and began marching towards the duo.

*"Hey, Irk's finest, I've got a proposition for you." As she said this, she was taking out a blue and black floppy disk from inside her bra, wiping off some sweat or something off of it. When she looked up and back at the alien twosome, they were pointing some very large and obtuse looking weapons at her. Eventually realizing that she had come on ambiguously peaceful terms, Zim lowered his gun and motioned for Gir to do the same. Instead of complying, the bastard SIR unit ran out of the house and yelled out something about shooting barrels in a fish.

"Gaz-human," Zim muttered as he straightened himself out. The purple kitchen echoed his uncomfortable shift in his posture. Gaz didn't move a fucking muscle, furthering her reputation as something of a cold-hearted bitch.

"Zim," she replied, with a voice drenched in psychotic stoicism.

"Well, what's this proposition? And make it quick, I have to make sure Gir doesn't blow something up again."

Gaz cleared her throat and began. "This is one of my brother's hard drives. I'm here to give it to you."

Zim's eyes stayed locked on her, scanning her body for any sign of nervousness or discomfort. Past interrogations of so-called 'Jehovah's Witnesses' who had appeared at his door led him to believe that humans display specific quirks when placed either under incredible pressure or into situations that they are not prepared for.

Suddenly, a chain of explosions sounded off outside. Zim peeked around Gaz's shoulder and caught a green dog chasing a squirrel while carrying some heavy artillery.

"Walk with me," he said.

As they exited the house and were greeted by the oppressive source of life and skin cancer known as the sun, Zim continued the conversation.

"Why would you betray your own species? I mean, fuck Dib, I get that, but why everyone else?" He asked.

Gaz shrugged, her purple bangs bouncing on her shoulders. "Because maybe we've gotten outta hand and we need something to come around and shake things up. We're not getting any smarter, nor are we exactly doing our best to change that. We're a stupid race of weenie eaters and techno-fetishists. We need change."

"Hmm… a weak philosophy, but I'll take it. So what's on the floppy?"

She handed it to him so that he could inspect it. "About five percent of all the information my brother has on you."

Zim was surprised to find that it was, in fact, a genuine floppy disk. But he knew it wasn't this easy. "So what's the, as humans call it, catch?"

Gaz watched Zim as he put the floppy disk in his mouth, between his jagged teeth, and bent down to tie up a sleeping Gir to the tree to prevent him from running off. He ran his hand over the robot's green suit and got up and returned to his visitor.

"The catch," she said as she slowly took the floppy disk from Zim's mouth, a tiny drop of green saliva dropping on to her index finger, "is that you must do something for me. A favour or task for me, another floppy for you." She saw that Zim was staring at the floppy disk and thinking over what her offer. While he was distracted with thoughts, she cleanly licked the saliva off her finger, shivering slightly at the almost electric feeling it gave her. She could taste the little shocks go off across her tongue and down her throat.

"Well, what do you say? You can even have this one for free." She wasn't sure if the pitch would work, but she'd decided to try it anyways.

Zim hmm'd and haa'd about it before ultimately saying, "Fine. I agree, Gaz-human."

She grinned and said, "Excellent. I'll be back tomorrow to give you another one. Just be prepared to keep up your side of the deal." Zim held up the floppy, shook it a bit with his loosened grip, and nodded. "I will," he muttered.

"Alright. See you tomorrow." Before she could finish, Zim was in the door and closing.

"See you."

It was around 3:30 AM when Dib had gone to sleep. He quietly snored away while dreaming of nothing. In a matter of moments, his computer turned on by an invisible force and began streaming large and complex lines of code. In the next room over, Gaz typed away fanatically on an old computer that looked like it was the 1980's. Once the computer beeped loudly, she pulled out a floppy disk out of the disk drive and looked at it. Another five percent of her brother's life work. "This is why you don't keep copies on your own unprotected computer, you stupid fuck," she growled to herself in satisfaction.

She smirked as she got up from her desk, undressed herself and slipped into bed. Gaz put it on the night stand next to her, and pulled a tiny ragdoll from under her pillow. It looked an awful lot like a certain local alien. She fell asleep clutching it close to her breasts, smiling.

Zim watched the screen in absolute amazement. Schematics of the Massive, theories about Operation Impending Doom II, diagrams of Irken anatomy that even made him feel uneasy, and charts mapping out possible planets beyond this solar system that might have been marked for bloody conquest.

"How the fffuck…?" Zim asked the silent images, flashing before him. They said nothing, but continued to flash elements of Zim's existence like a schizophrenic mirror. Once all the files had been downloaded into his computer's database, he wiped the sweat from his nonexistent brow. If this was only five percent, what more does Dib's collection contain? More than he might know of his own race? Hidden aspects of the grand mission? What?

Suddenly, the computer broke through his thoughts. "Sir, there's a file image that hadn't been analyzed. It's decrypted, but it doesn't seem to have the same techno-print as the others."

"Eh? Decrypt it and bring it to the main screen!"

After a moment or two, a picture of larger-than-average cleavage filled up the screen.

Zim's jaw dropped.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

…

Hello, all. Hope you enjoyed it. This is my second account on here, so I'm aware of how this works.

Please review and stick around for future developments.

Take care, y'all.

~iamcurrentlynothere


	2. Skin Deep

While it may have been fortified to fend off all creatures, even the peskiest of Gaz's enemies could find their way into her room.

Minuscule beams of dusted light shot through the holes and cracks of her blinded windows. It bled under the plastic blinds and eventually met her face, motionless and pale and deep in a dream. The faint grin upon her face was swept away with the greeting light, and she awoke with a growl. Next door, through the paper-thin walls of their house, she could hear Dib's furious clacking against his keyboard. She looked at her own desk, littered with crude drawings and video game magazines and walkthrough, at the whirring disk drive connected to her tiny notebook laptop. Soon, the whirring ceased, and Gaz slowly got up from her purple-with-skulls bed and ripped the still-hot floppy from the drive, throwing it into a tiny bag.

As she put up the metal blinds to let the sun in, she stretched and slowly ran her hands down her body and around her curves, taking in the flawless skin she found herself wrapped in. Shivers darted through her fingers and downwards through her, leaving no aspect or appendage of her body untouched.

Her admiration of herself halted as her phone exploded to life and began oozing out edgy goth rock. It was just the alarm she had managed to wake up well before. She brought her fist down onto the device, shutting it up accordingly. "Fuckin' Samsung piece o' shit, goddamn fuckin'…" she growled to herself, the little Korean phone pushing sparks through the cracked screen. She dressed herself up in her usual black attire, threw her skull necklace around her neck, applied a fresh coat of black lipstick, and promptly darted out of the house.

Dib, lost in his eurobeat and ghost-monkey transcript analysis, heard the slam of the door vibrate through the house. He had no idea why Gaz was leaving the house so often now.

Boyfriend? Nah.

Drugs? More realistic, but probably not. Gaz didn't even like beer and weed.

Crime? Definitely seems like Gaz. Dib began to recall her juvenile streak in high school. Their father was still paying off the repair bill for the toilets her cherry bombs had broken. As bad as it was and as wet as his pants had gotten, Dib could not resist being impressed that she had been able to hit every toilet in the Hi Skool and not get noticed.

Soon, the Skype calling tone began interrupting the beats, and Dib answered. A dark figure, with an outline he didn't recognize, stared back at him with red eyes. The poor guy froze. He hadn't seen those eyes since the tribunal.

…

Zim was slumped like a corpse over the console in his computer room. The large screen stood still and black, devoid of any images or activity. The chamber whirred contently around him, having lulled him to sleep the night before.

Gir came goose-stepping in, quietly going 'dooty dooty dooooo' over and over again. It wasn't until he had walked head-first into the control panel and bumped some kind of switch. The screen glitched and came to life, launching that larger-than-average cleavage right up to the forefront. Gir stared into nothingness for a bit, before screeching "MEAT PILLOWS!"

Zim woke the fuck up and began yelling. "Computer! Intruder! Man the guns! Send in the robo-parents!" He whipped his head around, struggling to find whatever woke him up, before realizing, like so many damn times before, Gir had woken him up. "Ugh, goddammit… GIR!"

"Yes, my lord!" The Irken raised an eyebrow to him. That was new.

"What're you doing down here? You're supposed to be on guard!"

"But I got bored. And I found a gopher!" Gir lifted up the bloodied dead gopher he had dragged in to his master. Zim sniffed the little carcass, gagged, then ordered the robot to take it to the Cryo-lab. Gir ran off yelling "WOOOOO!"

Zim sighed. "Annoying little-"

"Master?" The computer interrupted him.

"Hmm?" Zim spun around and to find himself staring dead into the tiny space between the large pair of mammary glands upon the screen.

"ACK!" He cried, and the computer laughed.

"Sir, I haven't been able to determine who these… _appendages_ belong to."

"Fine. Store it in the junk folder and bring up the front lawn security cam."

"You don't want me to delete it, sir?"

"DO AS I SAY!"

"Fine, fine…" The breasts shrank and was dragged to a folder called 'junk.'

Zim shook them from his head and began to focus on the newly-appeared live feed. The front lawn was quiet, grass blowing in the slight autumn wind, the gnomes doing nothing and staring into the cul-de-sac, Gaz Membrane walking up to the front door…

"SHIT! COMPUTER!" Zim shrieked. "Whaaaaaaaat?" The computer groaned, and Zim threw a rubber pig at the screen. "Disable the robo-parents and get my best wig! The Gaz-human is here!"

…

"Fuckin' gnomes…" Gaz muttered to herself, regardless of the strange neighbor lady who had been staring at her ass the whole way from the sidewalk to the front step. The goth spun her head around and shot her a look of murder, and the lady ran off into her house. She turned back to the door, and was met with a green-skinned weirdo with a pompadour wig and bluish-purple eyes.

"Zim."

"Gaz-human."

She rolled her eyes. "Fuck sakes, just call me Gaz."

"Ok… _Gaaazzz_...?" The word seemed to slowly pour from his mouth, garbled, awkward. Gaz smirked and patted his cheek with her white, bony hand. "That's better," she said as she pushed by Zim, brushing herself roughly against his arm. Zim rubbed it, not because it hurt, but because it felt strange. He closed the door and watched her rummage in her bag.

"Alright," began Gaz, "here's the disk. I only peeked a bit at some of the stuff on it." Zim's antennae twitched under his wig, then grabbed the girl by the shoulders, pulled her back, and pinned her against the door.

"What the fuck did you see? I swear to the Tallest, tell me!" Gloved nails dug into black fabric as the two creatures stared each other down. Slight panting filled the living room, echoing delicately.

Gaz said nothing, but took a deep shuddering breath and stuck her nose upwards, in some sad defiance of the alien. "Nothing I did know before."

"Like?!" Zim wasn't gonna just let that slide.

Gaz swallowed and moved her head closer to his.

"Nothing. I. Didn't. Know. Before." Her growl came from deep within, low and raw, ugly and defiant.

Zim's eyes hurried scanned her face. His grip loosened, released the girl from his clutches, and swiped the disk away from her hand. "Fine. What do you want from me?"

Gaz thought for a second. Zim had backed off a bit and she was looking him over. Since Zim seemed to have been born without a sense of embarrassment, Gaz drank him in with secret glee. She had a few debauched ideas of what she wanted to ask of him, but she resisted. Had to work her way up, she mused.

"Let me touch your skin," she muttered.

"Eh?!"

"You heard me, you Green Giant reject," she spat, "let me touch your skin."

Zim eyed her thoroughly, with nothing but suspicion for the girl and her request. She didn't _seem_ armed or anything. She had simply let him snatch the disk away from him. But he was aware of what Gaz Membrane was capable of. From the Wettening of Hi Skool, to the zombie chickens of October 12th, Zim was well aware of her abilities. With this prior knowledge, he advised himself against pissing her off.

"Very well, you may… _touch_ my superior skin," he muttered. Gaz struggled to contain her excitement. She sauntered up to the green alien, her right hand rising slowly. But then, Zim grabbed her hand. Gaz glared at him, confused and angered. He had a strange smirk painted on that jagged smile. "You already touched me. My cheek, when you so rudely made yourself comfortable without being invited. Are you trying to take advantage of our agreement?"

Gaz went dark and began growling. "Fuck you!"

Zim laughed. "If I were any more of an invader, I'd have to do something about that. But those days are far behind me." He let go, slightly, taking in the smoothness of her hand. He ungloved his hand, and cracked the bones in his three, pointed fingers. "Thirty seconds. Do your worst," he commanded.

Gaz could only smile and she put her right hand in the palm of his. It wasn't scaly, like she had hoped. It was tough, hard, like armor. She could feel two eyes burn their mark in the top of her skull, like they were trying to pick at her brain, her intentions. Gaz brushed her fingers against his, shooting goosebumps deep under her skin.

"We Irkens, we're born for war," quietly began Zim, "we have no use for soft, sensitive skin."

"Hm. Shame." Gaz couldn't say much, she was too busy taking in his hand, his skin, his palm, his fingers, his… claws.

Gaz retracted her fingers, and Zim returned his hand to the black glove that housed it.

"There, wasn't so bad, huh?" She breathed out, heavily. Zim looked at her through uneven eyebrows. "I guess. I guess this also concludes today's interaction?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yuppers. See you tomorrow?" Zim opened the door and motioned her to the outside world. "For sure. See you." Gaz ran out, blushing up a storm of red. Out the door, off the front lawn, across the cul-de-sac, away she was gone. A gothic hot mess, storming down the street. Not many people saw it, nor could see it, but Gaz had a big, fat, drooling grin on her face. How the hell was she to top that request tomorrow? How?

…

Zim surveyed and continued analyzing the documents. More anatomy diagrams, theories about Planet Devastis, astrological reports detailing possible flight paths for the Armada, and a host of other goodies. Zim looked on in complete awe as the mirror flashed on proof of his existence. He wished he knew how much Dib had revealed to anyone else. He did not want to think of who else might've had this information.

"Computer!" The alien's commanded echoed about. More coughing followed.

"Whaaat…?"

"Any documents or pictures differing in techno-print?"

The computer sighed. "No, sir, there's no more booby pics."

"YOU LIE!"

"Ugh, for fuck sakes, there's nothing here!"

Zim slouched against the console. "Hmm… bring it up."

"The other booby pic?"

"DON'T CALL IT THAT!"

"Fiiiiiine…"

They filled the screen promptly. Large, round, curvaceous. Zim felt he had seen them somewhere else. But where?

Then, he saw it.

A small tip of a purple lock of hair.

Zim grinned.

O.-

Author's note:

I meant to get this one up on Tuesday, but I got busy with other projects.

As always, read and review. Thank you for the great feedback so far.

Take care, y'all.

~iamcurrentlynothere


	3. Questions and Nerve Gas

Ding went the messenger on Dib's screen. A tiny notification obnoxiously popped up in the corner of his second monitor, signifying that it had been sent by Dark Booty.

{what did he say?}

Dib hesitated. He had been drinking. Hard. Absinthe mixed with champagne, a cocktail known as Death in the Afternoon, with the components stolen wholesale from the doctor's cabinet. After taking a big swig and blinking hard to reset his vision, he opened the tiny messenger and sent a reply.

{hes considering me for promotion}

He waited and waited. Soon, another ding.

{promotion?}

Dib typed out a hasty response. All the quicker to get back to his drink.

{his word not mine}

Ding.

{be wary. big feets is elusive, rarely contacts members individually. im not sure why hes suddenly so interested in your evidence. exercise caution with him.}

Type type type.

{ive heard the rumours believe me im aware}

Ding.

{keep me posted. how goes the transcripts?}

Dib took another large swig and banged out an answer.

{fucking chickenfoot sightings? seriously? i debunked this shit years ago!}

. . .

The floppy disk was hot, slightly singing Gaz's slender fingers. She seethed a bit and promptly threw the incriminating slice of plastic into her bag. She hoped she could get away with a little more skin from Zim today. But she decided to wait and see just how Zim was doing today. As she quietly snaked down the hall from her room to the stairs, one nasally voice rang out from under the closed door.

"…G-gaz…? Thhh…that-that you…?"

She sighed.

"Yes, you bulbous ass-hat. I'm going out."

A bit o' silence sank in before she heard-

"O-oh… o-o-o-oh… kay…"

A loud thump followed and Gaz huffed to herself. She bounced down the stairs, with every part of her bouncing along. She sped through the living room, and almost busted the door open, SWAT-style. It was a rainy, gloom-drenched day, a far cry from the almost demonic sunlight of yesterday. She swiped the umbrella from the holder to the side of the door, opened it furiously, and began making tracks towards Zim's house.

The city was quiet today. Rain rushed heartily into storm drains, with children's paper boats speeding by the tall, voluptuous gothic being. Gaz brooded as she briskly walked onwards. She mused over her agreement with the green one, wondering if her plan was working or not. It was a strange plan, no doubt in her dark little mind about that, but she had at least thought it through. She had theorized, with help from some of the psychoanalytical reports she had spied on from Dib's cache of documents and diagrams, that Irkens could be programmed for whatever task they had been assigned following their hatching from giant test tubes. However, there are similarities between human and Irkens, like being able to conditioned and manipulated into subservience. Gaz theorized that she could reprogram Zim for her own needs through rewarding him with Dib's information on him.

Like training a dog that was also green, hyperactive, narcissistic, and constantly shouting.

As the ugly little domicile came into her focus, she felt her heart grow a size bigger than before. Her face burned of anticipation as with each step, she felt desire carve into her body, making her feel curvier than before. Her determined stomping morphed into sultry gliding as her feet nearly skipped to the front door. She knocked once it was within arm's reach. But instead of being greeted by the alien bastard inside, Gaz felt annoyance take over as no response came of her knocking.

. . .

"Zoom… enhance… bring up the original… now compare…"

Zim stared hard at the screen. The computer piped up.

"Uhh… this is kinda fucked."

"Hush you!" The Irken hissed. "Can't you see I'm comparing?"

The computer beeped and booped before ultimate saying "that's not what that bulge says."

"GODDAMMIT, I'M NOT ATTRACTED!"

"Your bulge says otherwise."

"FFFFUUUUCK!" Zim grabbed Gir, who was beside him playing with a nerve gas grenade, and threw him and it into the wiring of the computer chamber, triggering an explosion of cupcakes (probably from Gir's head) and suffocating smog. The computer began coughing and gagging with its nonexistent lungs. Zim still had no fucking clue why it did that.

"GIR!" The tiny robot poked his head out of the smoke, covered in icing.

"Clean up this mess, then answer the door."

"Yes, my master!" Gir's head opened up and began sucking in a tornado of nerve gas, freeing up the chamber of the death fog. Once it had all sucked up into his head, Gir shut it closed and farted a tiny bit.

Zim shook his head. "GIR!" The robot began laughing maniacally and ran out of the room.

. . .

Sometime had passed by the time before the door had opened. That sensation of feeling sexier than usual had died a slow and boring death and Gaz stared daggers into the teal, childish eyes of the bastard SIR unit. "Gir, is your master home?"

"Yeeeeeaaaasssssss…!"

Gaz raised an black brow. "And…?"

"He be right up! I GOTTA CHECK THE TAQUITOS!" Away he ran again, leaving Gaz in absolute bewilderment. Par for the course, she mused.

She took a few steps into the house. Unlike the previous times she had been within these garish walls before, it stood dead and quiet and grey. It was like no one had lived here in ages. She decided to sit on the couch and wait for Zim, despite the monkey painting that hung above it. Those big monkey eyes looked like they were following each and every miniscule move she made. Gaz shuddered a coward's shudder, and promptly about faced and sat her ass down on the couch. She suddenly felt her ears twitch in time with the buzzing of tiny motors, whirring right behind her. Gaz's eyes slowly turned to look at the monkey eyes dead on. And she swore she saw them adjust themselves.

Before she could press on with her investigation, a loud clad broke her concentration and brought her back to the world. Zim stood before her, a real menace with a smile.

"Hello, Gaz."

"Hello, Zim."

She produced the floppy, he snatched it away, sniffed it, and called to his robot assistant. Gir came zooming out of the kitchen and right to his master's side.

"Gir, take this to the lab." The 'bot grabbed the disk by the teeth and disappeared, making high pitched noises and crab-walking into the kitchen.

Gaz had watched all this madness transpire, and it wasn't until Gir was gone down the toilet that she broke the newfound silence. "He always do that?"

Zim shrugged before sitting down next to her. "Eh, sometimes."

Gaz hmmmm'd quietly, nodded slightly. "I see. So, ready for your task today?"

Zim smirked. "Sure am, but first, answer me this." He pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Recognize these?"

Gaz hesitated a great deal before taking the picture. A few possibilities run about in her head. A note? A confession? An embarrassing photo of her at the Christmas dance when she pity-danced with Keef? The thought of her scowling through a half-ass chicken dance shook her with existential dread, causing her to instantly swipe the paper from Zim's claws. It was at this point she noticed he didn't have his disguise on, nor his gloves, freely exposing the more alien side of him. Something Gaz silently yet graciously accepted.

She unfolded the paper.

"Well?" Zim asked. Gaz just stared at it, unmoving, studying with stoic intent. Soon, she handed the picture back to him, puffed out her lower lip, stared forward in thought, then returned to him. She locked eyes with the alien and said-

"Wanna see them?"

Zim's squiddily-spooch went upside down and his pants got tight. His mouth went dry as he struggled for the response and the saliva to say it.

"W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-"

Gaz eventually lifted her finger and placed it against his lips. "Do you. Want to. See them."

Zim nodded almost microscopically. And with that Gaz smirked and retracted her finger.

"Then give me the disk."

Zim shook out his stupor quite violently before yelling "WHAT?"

"That's right. It's either the disk or these." On the word 'these,' Gaz cupped her breasts and pushed them up, making them almost a size and a half bigger than they were. She could feel the heat coming from Zim, with the tiniest bit o' drivel escaping those Ziploc teeth of his. The goth had the alien where she wanted him, and slowly inched her fingers into the opening in the front of her shirt, waiting for the pull-down signal.

To her surprise (disappointment?), Zim shook himself again and wiped the drool from his mouth. "As… _tempted_ as I am, I must stick with my priorities. I'll stick with the disk."

Gaz gave him a look he couldn't read. Her hands dropped to her lap. "Hmm. Your loss. Alright." She stood up and out her hands to her hips. Gaz stared down at Zim. "Today…I want a kiss."

Zim's antennae tweaked a bit at the request. "Ehh?"

"A kiss? You know?"

"Mmmm…?"

Gaz sighed. "Oral contact between two humans?"

Zim's eyes got wider. "Ohhhhh… but I, uhh…"

"You've never been kissed, have you?" Gaz laughed. A loud and audible laugh, filled with mockery and disbelief. "Jesus Christ, you Irkens have a lot to learn. Alright, close your eyes, and whatever you do, DO NOT OPEN THEM!"

"Ok ok! Just get it over with." Zim was getting anxious, uncomfortable with being eye level with the very things Gaz was moments away from showing him. It was like being taunted by a missed opportunity, one that could've lead to… well, Zim hadn't a clue, but now he wanted to know. He closed his eyes and waited. And waited… and waited… and waited…

And then, with the force of a hurricane, Zim felt his head get pulled between two large bulbous objects and squished between them. After a few suffocating moments, he finally got his eyes opened, and found Gaz's fiery amber eyes firing back at him, that devilish smirk of black, moist lips spreading across her pale mug.

He was right between her-

"MEAT PILLOWS! WOOOOOO!"

. . .

Author's note:

Sorry, this chapter's shorter than I would've liked it to be. Been busy with getting ready to move soon.

I'll probably just aim to post a new chapter each Thursday. Makes sense to me, at least.

Read, review, enjoy. And thank you, thank you, thank you for the feedback.

Take care, y'all.

~iamcurrentlynothere


	4. Haute Tension

They stared on with faces blanker than death.

Zim, his head mere inches out of Gaz's cleavage, stared dead at the tiny robot who had interrupted them. Gir stood with his tongue sticking out all silly-like and had yelled 'MEAT PILLOWS' mere moments prior.

Zim shook his head and struggled for a reprimand, but none were to be found. "GIR! Go play outside! Go burn squirrels or play with the death bee!"

"Ooohhhhhhhkie dokie!" Gir ran screaming wildly through the front door, leaving the two bewildered into silence. After a few moments, Zim pushed Gaz away and gave her the ol' death glare.

"What was that for? Fuck sakes, I nearly suffocated!" He began barking out.

Gaz smirked. "Oh, like you didn't enjoy that. God, you're easy to read." She sauntered up to him and trying to grab his head again. Zim fought and fought, but goddamn did Gaz had muscle.

"Oh, don't even try, shrimp." Gaz was just mocking now, and Zim eventually decided to end this shit. With a swipe of his claws, his slashed open her shirt, her breasts bouncing almost violently out of clothed confinement. A look of shock was slapped onto Gaz's face, and she backhanded the green one with brute force. Clear, crisp, to the goddamn point, it was a helluva slap.

"Motherfucker!" She started grasping at the ripped cloth. "Motherfucker, you don't get these by taking 'em with force! You gotta earn 'em!" She struggled to keep them from bouncing about, but it wasn't exactly working out.

To her complete disregard, Zim was drooling while cradling his slap-mark.

Gaz stopped struggling and smirked.

"You know, yer' lucky you're you," she muttered as she let her hands, almost magnetically, plant themselves upon her hips, curves and all.

Zim's jaw dropped like a poor sucker in a boxing ring.

Gaz laughed. "Well? Come conquer me... _invader_ … "

. . .

It was with great exasperation that Dib was able to finish the analyzing the last of the Nuclear Hobo files. A great many stupid fucking wasted hours. Dib was fed up with this shit. Real fed up. Like he was ready to smack a fuckin' bitch or something. He hadn't really left the house-let alone his room-in days, and it was starting to show. In his skin, in his eyes and the bags that hung from them, in his speech, and even in the way he walked. But people don't get anywhere doing it like this. You gotta cut the vein, squeeze every drop o' blood and-

BRRRIIIINNNNGGGG!

Downstairs, in the kitchen, the phone sang its dissonant song and alerted Dib, dragged him out from under his thoughts.

He clunked down the stairs and went straight to the phone, answering it with slight interest.

"Nnnn… he-hello?"

"Dib?"

Jesus H Christ, it was Gaz. She had been gone all day and Dib hadn't noticed once.

"Gaz? Shit, where are you?"

"I'm, uh, still out."

"No shit. Where are you?"

"None o' your business, fuckwit. I need you… to do some… ah fuck… for me… hssss…!"

Sudden confusion came into Dib's head. What was up with her? Her voice didn't carry it's typical venom, making her sound… slightly subdued…?

"What, what do you need?"

"Geez, impatient are we? Agh!"

"What? What's wrong!?"

Dib forced the receiver against his ear and plugged the other with his finger, trying to listen in to the distant voices.

"Goddamn! Don't use your tongue like that!"

"What? Can you blame me?"

"Oh fuck off."

"Gladly."

"Goddammit, just get back to it… fuck! Dib?!"

Dib closed his tired eyes. "Yeah, Gaz?"

"Hey, I need you to order some pizza. From Bloaty's, make it the 'uge."

Dib let out of those sighs, one of those defeated sighs.

"Fuckin'… fine. I'll call now."

He hung-up before she could insult him.

Dib just shook his head. His large sad head. "That bitch. I just don't know."

Then, upstairs, the familiar ding of the messenger rang out. Dib sulked back to the domicile, slumped down in his chair, and answered the messenger.

It was Dark Booty again.

{we need to talk}

Dib didn't say anything. He just stared at the screen with eyes of bloodshot. It dinged again.

{now mothman}

. . .

Gaz moaned through that devil smirk of hers, gasping for air every few seconds or so. The tongue, scaly and slimy, wrapped itself around her right breast, with its pointed tip flicking the erected nipple furiously. On her left, a claw squeezed and grabbed with hunger, stretching and bruising it to her satisfaction. Zim had tuned it all out and was focusing on the flesh feast before him. She straddled his slender hips and kept the erratic alien from squirming too much.

Gaz squeaked even, once she felt a few pointed fingers scratch into her backside. "Ah, damn, kid, not so hard!" She felt Zim's chuckle vibrate against her body, causing her to shiver and shake.

Eventually, he grabbed her by the waist and laid her down on the couch, legs still entwined. Gaz knew Zim wouldn't do anything else, not pull anything or go beyond the unestablished limits, so she let him suck and squeeze and lick away. She felt like one of those porn stars, the one she watched a lot in high school, the 30-40 year olds who brought young men into their houses for some banal task and end up letting them fondle their tits before fucking their brains out. But this wasn't her home, this was Zim's home- nay, Zim's base!- and she had invited herself over. Originally to give him a floppy disk, but instead, she ended up giving him her upper body to use as his plaything.

Yes, Gaz thought, life was good.

Soon, Zim stopped and retracted his hormonal self from Gaz's body and straighten himself out. She looked on, first confused, then angered, then frustrated.

"What the hell?! You were doing just damn fine!" She began barking at him like the biggest ball of rattled fuck-nerves to ever be in such a position. Zim merely looked at her. "I've done your task for the day," he said with newfound stoicism.

"Fuck off!" She cried, "you teasing fuck! You're gonna keep going until I stop!"

Zim smirked. "Then you should said that at first and not let your humans hormone get the better of you, crazy bitch."

Gaz lifted up her hand, tightened in preparation to deliver a god-smack of a backhand, but just as she brought it around, Zim grabbed her by the wrist, sat Gaz up, spun her around and forced it behind her back.

"Pull that shit again and you'll never taste a pepperoni pizza again," whispered Zim into Gaz's ear. The goth shuddered at the heat of his alien breath and the finality of his unsweetened nothing. "Wh-whatever you say…"

Zim let her go, swiped her bra from the floor and put it back on her. "I apologize for your shirt. Here, I'll let you use one of my coats." He snapped his fingers, and Gir came screaming out of the kitchen. The two organics in the room looked at the robot weirdly, for they had no idea how he went from outside to the kitchen without anyone noticing.

"GIR! Bring the poor woman one of my coats! Preferably the black one!" Gir saluted, shouted some nonsense about his master, and scooted off to the kitchen.

"Black coat?" Gaz inquired, adjusting her bra and stuffing her breasts into the cups.

"You look good in black. Thought it'd be fitting for a, as members of your niches describe yourselves as, _goth_ ," said Zim as he watched for his robot.

Gir soon returned with a large black overcoat. Zim took it, produced an rubber piggy from an unseen pocket, and threw it to Gir.

"I didn't think invaders were such a gentleman," Gaz joked.

"Only to trick the filthy, impress the unwitting, and win the trust of lesser beings."

Gaz grinned and planted a kiss upon that green smooth mouth. After pulling away, impressed with Zim's reciprocation, she stood up from the couch and did up her coat.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

She turned and looked to the alien, before opening the front door.

"Of course."

. . .

Dib heard the footsteps, but was surprised when the door didn't swing open with the usual theatrical force. Gaz merely stepped in, closed the door, and walked to the kitchen, where her bother had hungrily gobbled down three (maybe four?) whole slices of pizza. Dib rountinely prepared for a slab, a homophobic slur, and the swiping of the entire pizza.

Instead, Gaz just ruffled his hair, took four pieces, and merely said "thanks for ordering." After chuckling a bit, she rushed upstairs, sounding off the clicking of her bedroom door.

Dib was fucking flabbergasted. No slap? No getting called a faggot? No goddamn nothing?

He wanted to run after her, bust open the door, and call her out on her strange behaviour. He wanted an explanation for just how weird this was.

He also wanted to know who the other voice, the background voice, was. The one Gaz was telling to not be so rough.

Wait, Dib thought.

Was she-?

Was she?

She wasn't… was she?

Dib shook the images aside. There was no way in Hell he would let himself be bothered by this.

She was an adult after all.

But as Dib finished the last of the pizza pie, a new thought struck him. The background voice. It was familiar. Too familiar. Too theatrical for an average human, let alone anyone in this city. Too articulate. Too calculating. Too… villainous, almost.

Dib racked his brain, his large annoying brain. He struggled and struggled with the voice that bounced about within. He slumped in his chair and pushed all thoughts from his mind.

And then, he began breathing heavily as a face started creeping into his head. Vague and undefined at first, but slowly, the image cleared. Edges formed, features became defined, and the evil reared its mocking stare.

The face with zipper teeth and red eyes. The face with green skin and jagged antennae. The face with scaly tongue and electric saliva. The face of invasion, of intergalactic life, and of undying rivalry. The face of his downfall. The face of his enemy.

 _His_ face.

Dib screamed.

. . .

Author's note:

Sorry for the day late upload. Got a late start on this chapter and struggling a bit with finishing.

Hello to all the new readers. Enjoy your stay.

As always, read, review, and stay tuned.

Ĝis venonta fojo,

~iamcurrentlynothere


	5. War and Spikes

The atmosphere was a bad one, full of dread that wouldn't be out of place in a bomb specialist's worried lil' head. It was thick, like a cool glass of congealing Jäger, and ugly like a tumor in trashy make-up. Gaz, munching on a sausage pizza open-mouth, and Dib, sipping quietly on a New Poop cola. Somewhere in the heavens, gods cringed and watched the two siblings as they spoke nothing and thought EVERYTHING.

Gaz was the first to cease her chewing. "What crawled down your throat and died?"

Dib looked up from the book he was reading, a strange old tome called _Bigfoot and Philosophy: A Guide to Reconciliation and Acceptance_. " 'scuse me?"

"Yeah, you with the dead eyes and limp wrists. What's your problem? I thought you'd be happy that I picked up some of that shitty new pop you, for some reason, are hooked on right now."

Dib stared her down a bit before taking a massive final slurp of the soda, a loud suction sound screaming from the can's tiny opening. "Nothing. It's fine."

Gaz made no changes in her look of un-amusement. She sighed before swiping another slice from the box and hanging it over her mouth. Her long pink tongue flicked the gooey cheese before guiding it into her mouth, slowly and carnivorously biting into it. Dib watched with seething eyes and harsh breathing, and once the pizza was in her mouth wholesale, he fired the can straight into the trash. After he made the shot, Dib escaped from the suffocating feeling the room had on him and darted upwards to his room, the stairs creaking with each hard step.

The goth girl finally broke out of her pizza fueled ecstasy and looked around for her dumbass brother, absent from the table with a trail of dust leading up the stairs. She shrugged.

"Faggot."

. . .

"Hey, masta?" Gir was poking Zim's head rapidly, trying to get the alien's attention. Zim had been lying on the couch all day, eyes closed. Gir's less-than-mediocre internal processor deduced, for a split-second, that his master was dead, but immediately after that thought left his head, Gir began putting up ebay listings of all of their stuff.

Zim eventually woke up, eyes fluttering groggily. *It had been ages since he had woken up this discombobulated since his graduation party back Devastis. That sad one-man party, alone in his barrack…

"Hey, masta?"

Zim turned and look at the 'bot. "Whaaaaaaat is it, Giiiirrrrr…"

"Whatchya' doin'?"

The alien let out a sub-bass groan before answering, "I was sleeping, Gir."

Gir didn't budge, but he did blink. Slowly, one eye closing with the other following suit a mere moment after. Zim shook his head. "I really need to fix that. Creepin' me out." He got up and began moving about, stretching and cracking limb and bone. He got up from the couch, with its imprint of his figure deep in the fabric. The house was dead. Not even Gir was his typically frantic self, cheerfully and uncharacteristically murmuring to himself as he read an upside copy of _The Little Robot Who Could Destroy a Planet_. As Zim's surroundings kept coming into view, he noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. He walked, with an air of caution, to the door, and swung it open so that he may catch whoever was at the front door. Instead of a person or the Tallest or some kind of pig demon, there was a floppy disk taped to the door with a post-it note on it. The note read 'next task on disk.'

Zim sighed a bit, lightly ripped it from the door, and closed it.

"COMPUTER!" He barked. Soon, the AI groaned a bit then muttered "Whaaat, what what what?"

"Take me to the computer room, we have another disk to analyze." Zim began walking to the toilet, with the intention of stepping into the oddly-disguised elevator.

The computer then, under some electronic breath, chuckled. Zim's antennae twitched and flung upwards. "What's so goddamn funny?!" The Alien demanded.

"Will there be more pictures of ~ahem~ meat pillows?" The computer taunted Zim with the question. However, despite its flaws, Zim's brain could generate the right response at the right time. "Keep it up and I'll deactivate your ass."

The computer hmph'd and sent Zim rocketing down into the lower tiers of the underground base.

. . .

Gaz always hated lingerie shopping. She preferred to do it from the home, in the artificial glow of her laptop, but even then, it was a game of trial and error as she couldn't physically try anything on and had to guess how it was going to look on her, as well as if it was going to be comfortable for her. "God, why is it so damn difficult to shop for bras, like what the fuck…?" She mused as a constant stream of 36K bras whipped by, creating a kind of gothic rainbow before her eyes. She prayed for something suitable to come up, but nothing was looking particularly enticing this evening. Soon, a metallic burning smell snuck into her nose and shook up her sense. Gaz retched a bit before grabbing the newly programmed floppy disk from the machine. She took a whiff and retched even harder before tossing it into her bag for tomorrow. She hoped Zim would enjoy his next task, Gaz had worked extra hard to come up with it.

Soon, her phone lit up, its cracked screen (from when she smashed it a few days prior) revealing that an unlisted number was giving her a ring. Gaz answered it accordingly. "Hello?"

"Uh… he-hello?"

Gaz's face lit up, all smiley and demonic. "Zim?"

"Uh, yeah, I got your message?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh, yeah… look, I'm not the expert on human culture like I portray myself to be…"

"Shocking."

"Shut up. Anyways… I… I really REALLY don't know what to say here… I mean, how do I pick one without not knowing anything about them?"

"You don't. You just pick whichever one looks appealing to you."

"Ah… eh… ugh… I don't know, I feel really unqualified to just 'pick one.' "

"Well, just pick one, anyone. Eenie meanie that shit."

"Uh, ok… but first you have to answer one question."

"Nope. Pick one, THEN I answer."

"Fuck, alright, uhhh… the third one."

"The one with spikes?"

"Y-yeah."

"Alrighty. Now, what's your question?"

"What are these things?"

"I'll show you when it comes in the mail."

"Wait, what?"

Gaz hung up, got up from her desk, swung open her door, then swung open her brother's door, and beat Dib to a snivelling pulp, breaking the listening device and his headphones in the ensuing carnage.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Gaz roared. Dib choked up globs of darken blood with the occasional tooth. He gagged on his collar when it tightened itself around his neck, a result of Gaz's angry claws pulling him up to her infuriated mug.

"YOU SPY ON ME AGAIN AND I SWEAR TO GOD MOTHERFUCKER YOU WILL FUCKING DIE BY MY OWN HAND AND I WILL CRUCIFY YOU MY FUCKING SELF!" Her words were angry and damning. Each one ringing true with gruesome intent and murderous integrity. Dib merely watched meekly as the blood-fires in her amber eyes danced horrifying dances of bloody murder and sadistic pleasure. He shook his head, sobs fucking up the smoothness of the gesture. Gaz dropped Dib back to the ground, ass first and head last. She felt a tinge of pleasure when she heard-no, FELT- the crack of her brother's skull against the leg of his swivel chair.

"I have no mercy for you. Never did," Gaz growled as she slammed her foot onto his wrist, breaking it wholesale.

"And now, I never will." And with that, Gaz shut the door, leaving Dib to bleed and bleed and bleed.

. . .

Zim sat before the screen, alone, witness to the oppressive flashing of Irken documents. His entire culture laid out before him like an analytical feast of weaponry and psychoanalytical theories. Diagrams hypothesizing the anatomical evolution of the typical Irken soldier, complete black box recordings from a downed Irken Voot Cruisers when it crashed at Roswell in 1947, blueprints of a dismantled Irken pak obtained from that same crash, comprehensive timelines of Irken-Foodcourtian relations dating all the way back to the original Great Foodening and the snack shortage left in its wake, and complete essays on the Irken military and technological firepower.

"How in the Hell did Dib get a hold of all this…?" He wondered, mouth agape, eyes reflecting the data. He was horrified, impressed, and disturbed. Dib seemed to know more about the Irken Empire than even Zim did. As the data kept flashing by, a familiar pink image appeared and disappeared quicker than he could process. Immediately-

"COMPUTER! HALT!" Zim let out an authoritative shriek. The flashing did indeed halt, and Zim took control. He clicked and clacked away at the keyboard, sifting through the images.

Soon, two familiar breasts, fully bared and seductively grasped by their mysterious owner filled up the screen. Zim's face went from inhuman green to burning red, and he felt his pants grow somewhat tighter.

On the breasts, in black marker, with an arrow pointing down between them, was the phrase 'wish you were here.'

Suddenly, breaking his master's lustful stare, the computer spoke up. "Told ya."

Zim shook his head wildly before throwing his finger up in defiance to the computer's taunt. "FUCK YOUUUUUUU! YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DOOO!"

"I don't," began the AI, "but she does."

"What!?"

"The girl, Gaz or whoever. She's got you by the squiddly-spooch, buying spiked garments for her and pleasuring her for information that you yourself should have in your database. She entices you with mammary glands and skimpy clothing, you do her bidding, and she gives you treasure trove upon treasure trove of dirt on YOUR OWN RACE. Tallest almighty, you expecting to mate with her?"

Zim didn't say anything.

The computer, suddenly, went, "oh, shit."

. . .

Gaz snapped herself out of her daydream in a violent sweat, disbelieving herself. She felt no other emotions than disbelief and sheer animalistic heat. Her bed, her hair, her senses, all messy and hazy. "Jesus fucking Christ." She heaved the words from her mouth. Her body, to put it simply, was all a hot mess, and she wasn't complaining.

A timid knocking came from the door, and Gaz screamed "WHAT?"

Dib's breaking voice came from beyond the door. "Um… you know the walls are pretty thin… right?"

Gaz's eyes went wide and she leapt to her feet and nearly ripped the door from its place. Dib fell to the ground in response to the shockwave. "THE FUCK!? WERE YOU LISTENING?"

"NO! I mean, I tried not to! But you're so damn loud!"

"WHAT DID YOU HEAR?!"

"NOTHING!"

Gaz brought her hammer of a foot down onto Dib's groin, eliciting a loud screech from the guy's mouth. She returned to her room and slammed the door back in place. She was breathing heavily, drool and blood (from biting her tongue mid-outburst) dripping freely from her seething maw. Oh, hell was gonna pay, she knew it. The room started going dizzy, her balance was nearly nonexistent, and Dib's screams were fucking with whatever half-assed concentration remained in her hormone-addled mind. The goth struggled to keep her hands from caressing herself, despite the desire to do so.

"Keep focused, you don't love the bastard," she muttered to herself a crazed mantra, "stay the course, Gaz-baby, stay the course." She stumbled to her drawer, threw open her underwear drawer, and pulled out a large, metal, _phallic_ toy.

She threw herself onto the bed, toy in tow. She kicked off the sheets, and threw the pillow to the ground. She aimed the toy, pulled it back, and closed her eyes in anticipation of impact.

"Goddammit, I don't love the bastard… I don't love the bastard… AH GOD! I DON'T LOVE THE BASTARD! I DON'T LOVE THE BASTARD! I DON'T LOVE THE BASTARD! I DON'T LOVE THE BASTARD! I DON'T LOVE THE BASTARD! I DON'T LOVE THE BASTARD…!"

Once the deed was done, she breathed heavily and trying to temper her mind from its ecstatic high. Gaz thought hard if she had managed to convince herself.

Gaz sighed, closed her eyes, and aimed up again.

"Fuck the bastard."

. . .

Author's note:

Sorry for the late upload. Writer's block, packing, and other reasons.

Read, review, stick around.

Take care, y'all.

~iamcurrentlynothere


	6. Fucking is Mentioned

The last spikes of pleasure shot through Gaz's spine. A long, breathy sign escaped her mouth as the orgasm's tail end slapped her senses around before evaporating from her entirely. She couldn't feel the toy anymore; she had gone completely numb, regardless of its impressive size and girth. Gaz had thrown it to the ground, putting a significant dent in the fictional phallus. Her body refused to calm down, but she eventually began forcing her hormones down through sheer willpower. Gaz took deep, concentrated breaths in an attempt to temper the pulsing coming from her lower body. Soon, control was lifted from her urges and returned to her brain, her sense of logic and reason. She felt no reason to get worked up again, not for a long while.

Gaz felt weak. She hated feeling weak. Weakness, to her, was a sign of humanity. And fuck humanity.

She dressed herself up and opened the blinds of her room, unleashing a large amount of sunlight onto her breasts, which were bruised and red and sore from hours of clawing, grasping, and biting and sucking. But she took no notice of the light and began sulking through the dark corridors of the Membrane household. Gaz didn't bother to see if her brother was home, nor did she bother with calling his name just to be sure that his presence was lacking in that lonely old house. Her desire to pummel the poor boy was nowhere to be found in her, so Gaz clunked down the stairs and entered the kitchen.

Still no Dib.

She decided to raid the fridge in an attempt to fill herself up with cold leftovers, a tried and true method of her own conception which aided in her dilution of sexual urges and of any invasive fantasies. It was a mere suppressor of emotions, emotions that she had struggled to contain for years. Gaz still remembered the day, that crucial day, in which she self-diagnosed herself as a nymphomaniac, a psychosexual who always wanted it. But after an entire high school of self-discipline and suppressive techniques, she was able to hide such urges behind her typical mask of misanthropy and cynicism.

In other words, she repeatedly left her human side for dead, only to have it resurrect itself occasionally. Be it a newfound fetish or some new pornstar she had discovered, it always something.

But, of course, Gaz was above human sexuality. She thought she was. She _knew_ she was.

The cold pizza brought her down from her ecstatic high. And as she munched her way back up the stairs to get her bag, she noticed that Dib's door was ajar. It was slight, but certainly open. She took a passing peek, through the little crevice, and saw he was not there.

'Strange,' she thought, 'faggot's not home.'

In her room, she grabbed her bag and made for the door, but was tripped up by the toy she had banished from her bed to her floor. Gaz stared at it a bit, and soon felt that familiar feeling of lust.

Just a little release. It wouldn't hurt, would it?

Gaz pondered it, biting her lip in thought, but then shook herself out of it. She pick it up, and although the tiny indented fake veins impressed her a tiny bit, she eventually flung open the window and threw it, head first.

Somewhere, two 12-year-old boys, playing with their robots and countering with wave pulses and swarmers, were suddenly shocked to see a silver dick fly into their sandbox.

. . .

Across town, in a tiny café, sat Dib. His wrist was bandaged up, but his facial scars were clearing up quite a bit. He saw the many hipster customers whiz by him, as his own battered self wasn't processing everything like it could a day prior. But he could also feel it all coming back to him slowly. He just had to keep taking care of himself, all while avoiding his bitch of a sister's wrath. 'Why does she have to be so loud? Other people live in that house,' he thought to himself.

He looked about the tiny joint before he saw the familiar face. That old janitor he had met at NASA that one time. Otherwise known as-

"Dark Booty," Dib said with a grin.

The old man grinned back. "Mothman." He sat down at the small table, prompting Dib to push the second coffee cup his way. "Espresso, how you like it."

"Thanks." Dark Booty took a sip. "So, how goes the Chickenfoot report?"

"Fine," Dib said as he cradled his cup, "it's mostly turning out to be a psychological examination of the subject. Why he thought he was Chickenfoot, his mental state before and after his 'transformation,' and his behaviour during his chicken spree."

*"Yeah, grunt work's always tough." Dark Booty took a long sip, nearly draining the cup completely. "But don't worry. Your work is bringing more results than we can come up with. A buncha' us old-timers have a hard time keeping up with the current state of paranormal research in today's world. It's also not easy to hire younger, faster minds, so when we got your application all those years ago, we were damn surprised. Trust me, it seems like you're doing a lotta shit work, but it helps in the long run."

Dib nodded and took a gulp of coffee. "Appreciate it." Dark Booty nodded, and after a moment of mutual silence, spoke up. "Big Feets has been talking about you lately."

"I know. He's been checking up on me on an almost regular basis." Dib's face went slightly dark, not wanting to think too hard about the leader of the Swollen Eyeballs.

"He's heavily considering you for promotion, and I think he might in the right on this one."

"You think?"

"Yup. Like I said, you've done more work in two years than we've done in two decades. Trust me, you'd do better as a higher-up. Some seniority could also…"

The old man looked around cautiously, almost paranoid-like. "…get you into the archives," he said with a wink.

Dib's right eyebrow raised in response. "The archives?"

Dark Booty nodded. "Yup."

"Why're you telling me this?"

"Let's just say that your evidence cache won't be the only thing in there that's related to, shall we say, little green men with invasive qualities." The old man winked and Dib's eyes got wide.

"There's stuff in the archives about the Irk-"

"Shh! Not out loud!" Dark Booty hissed before hurriedly looking around the café again. Dib slapped a hand over his mouth in reprimand.

Dark Booty returned focus to his young friend and hushed his voice. "Stay on Big Feets' good side. That promotion will get you the archives, and if you get into the archives, you'll find everything you've been searching for." He grinned and got up from the small table. "Et quom te videre, Mothman."

"Et quom te videre, Dark Booty." And Dib watched the old man disappear through the café doors and into the downtown crowds. He finished his drink and followed suit. Soon, Dib felt his phone rumble in his pocket, and pulled out the little black flip phone. It was a text from Dark Booty.

{forgot to ask, you don't have any secondary copies of the cache, do you?}

Dib texted out a reply.

{of course not. the only existing copy is in the archives. i know it's a breach of conduct to duplicate anything marked for archival.}

Bzzzzz.

{good good. just making sure. don't want that in the wrong hands.}

. . .

Gaz handed over the disk to Zim. "Here ya' go."

"Thanks," muttered Zim. "So, what's my task today?

They were sitting on the couch in Zim's living room. Gir was outside shooting up neighbourhood kids with a bowel disrupter, leaving the two in solitude. Zim also noticed that Gaz seemed more subdued than usual today, but then again, it was a gloomy day, and he was feeling the gloom as well.

Gaz hmm'd and haa'd about it for a bit before muttering simply, "take your pants off."

Zim was shocked at the frank request. "What?"

"You heard me. Take 'em off."

The alien suddenly became uneasy. "Can I ask why first?"

Gaz grabbed his collar, pulled him right up to her face, and raised a fist to him. "Do it, you mint ice cream lookin' motherfucker!

Zim nodded meekly, and after being released from Gaz's clutches, stood up and faced her. He took a deep breath before pulling down the black garment.

Gaz watched closely, only to be utterly… disappointed.

"Um… there's nothing there." She stared at the blank and smooth-skinned crotch of the alien before her.

"Well, yeah, I mean, didn't you read any of those anatomical reports? In fact, have you read anything you've putting onto those disks?" He asked with an almost interrogational tone.

"Only psychological reports," she confessed bluntly.

Zim sighed. "We're born in test tubes, ergo we have no purpose for, as you humans call them, reproductive organs."

Gaz just nodded. "Hmm. Checks out."

Zim began pulling up his pants. Gaz then asked the only logical question at this point. "You know what sex is, Zim?"

He nodded. "Sexual reproduction, yes?"

"Yes and no. I mean like fucking."

Zim's eyes went inquisitive as they focus on her.

"Fucking?"

"Yeah, like, boy fucks girl, makes her his bitch. Or vice versa, if you're into that."

Zim's eyesbrows could only raise cautiously, the kind of cautiously that implies sick fascination. "I'm not sure I follow."

Gaz shook her head. "Oh, Zim. There's so much you don't know about us humans." She stood up from the couch, walked over to the alien, lightly grasped one of his antennae and began rubber her middle and thumb on the slightly fuzzy appendage. Zim's eyes slowly crossed, his body twitching and twisting in response.

"Tell me, is there anything you can do to give yourself something… down there?" She asked through a seductive tongue. Zim thought hard, trying to think of something.

"Well… ah… there are-agh!- Plookesian Aphrodisiacs… ah shit…" Zim spat out the words between hisses and exhales. "But… I don't… know how well… ah… they work… fffuck…"

Gaz let up on the antennae and Zim shook his head in an attempt to get himself back to normal. "Could you get ahold of one of these… er, what'd you call 'em?"

"Plookesian Aphrodisiacs." Zim replied, with his senses nearly back to normal.

"The fuck does that even mean, you leprous banshee?"

"Plookesians, for some reason, got really bored some decades ago and began doing chemical experiments to amuse themselves. Then, one of them found a recipe for what has become known as the world's most intense and sought-after aphrodisiac." Zim sat back down on the couch, his back bending uncomfortably as he slouched. "Very hard to find. From what I understand, not even humans have tried it."

Gaz looked at him funny. "What kind of effects does it have?"

"For girls, no idea. For guys, well, think nuclear Viagra. I've heard rumours that the shit is so powerful that it can grow genitalia on anyone who doesn't have any." Zim muttered with lack authority, not realizing what he had just said.

Gaz grinned, then jumped on top of the alien. She straddled his lap and restrained his wrists, forcing them up against the couch. Her eyes were hazy, and she appeared to almost be drooling. "Get some. Now."

Zim looked up at the goth. "I have no idea where to even find any."

"Oh, bullshit. Don't you have some intergalactic super computer you can use?"

The alien thought for a split moment. "Well, I do have one contact who might know…"

. . .

The giant screen whizzed and whirred to electronic life as Zim began typing in messenger coordinates for Planet Blorch, the new Irken parking structure planet. Suddenly, a portly little Irken with some grease stains upon his uniform showed up.

"Tallest almighty, Skoodge, you haven't changed a damn bit." Zim could only smirk at his old training buddy.

"Aww, no fair, you grew!" Skoodge blurted out, foregoing formalities.

"Hahaha, so I have. Look, Skoodge, I don't have much time. I need to know if you know where I can get any Plookesian Aphrodisiacs."

Skoodge's eyes went wide. "Holy shit, Zim. Why would you need that?"

"Reasons. For the mission. Whatever, I just need some." Just outside of the screen's view, and therefore Skoodge's vision, Gaz stood before Zim, manhandling her breasts as motivation for the alien. She had pulled her shirt up and, after some struggling, over the mammoth mammaries, bearing all for Zim with the promise of completely letting him have them all to his alien self.

"Dammit, man, I just need some!"

"Alright, alright!" Skoodge began walking around his home-base, moving stuff around and knocking over other stuff. Soon, he found an angular glass bottle of glowing purple liquid. "I was saving this, but you seem to need it more than I do. I'll send it now, I've got your coordinates."

"Cool. Thanks, Skoodge."

The screen blacked out, Skoodge's image glitched out, and the call was ended. Zim looked to Gaz.

"Now we wait."

. . .

Dib heard the front door unlock, a tiny sound that heralded the familiar march of platform boots. He winced in time with the steps, as they went across the living room, up the stairs, down the hall, pass his door (where they slowed a bit before picking up their usual pace again) and into the room next to his. And with that, another door closed and Dib sighed. He resumed typing again, losing himself in his work and background music. But then, he heard a noise. Squeaking or something.

Like bed springs, squeaking in rhythm.

Dib's gut became a gaping void as he feared for the worst. Bed springs squeaking, loud ecstatic screaming, constant praising of a Christian deity… yup, it was Gaz.

And then suddenly, a loud angry scream came shaking through the wall, and to Dib's shock and surprise, a large black plastic dick burst through his wall, head first, being stopped only by its exceptionally large testicles.

. . .

Author's Note:

Regular updates, perhaps? Well, I'll try. It finally occurred to me that maybe writing chapters way ahead of when I plan to post them.

Tried a little world-building while also keeping with the world established in the show. World-building maybe isn't the best way to put it. Maybe world-expanding?

Read, review, and stick around.

Take care, y'all.

~iamcurrentlynothere

P.S.: Kudos to you, whoever gets the Transmetropolitan reference.


	7. Some Kind of Sexual Godsend?

The package landed not with a bang, nor a thud. At first, it seemed like it was gonna break through the front door and blow up the ugly little house. Instead, a tiny quartet of thrusters gently landed the grey and purple package onto the front door, with a tiny robotic arm popping out to ring the doorbell. Times had changed since the old days of Callnowia, when packages were just launched at full speed toward their designated planets. The last time Zim received a package, it was that faulty Megadoomer from back in the day. Now, anyone from anywhere could just get Callnowia on the line and order a self-piloting package and send the thing themselves.

Like today, when Zim received the package from Blorch, courtesy of one Invader Skoodge. The package sat neatly for a good thirty minutes before either Zim or Gir noticed. Fortunately, one of them noticed, when Gir opened the front door and walked right into the large metal box. From downstairs, Zim hear a great scrapping sound, rushed up to the living room, and Gir dragging the thing inside.

Immediately, Zim realized what it was.

"GIR! Leave me to my package!" The little robot ran off, laughing maniacally, like he always did. Zim began to slowly circle the box, occasionally kicking to see if it would explode or something. After about five kicks and a knock or two, he then called out for the computer. "Take this to my chambers!"

The computer groggily responded with "ok, master," ultimately letting the package disappear into the floor with urgency.

"Anything else?" The computer asked.

Zim thought for a second. "Call up the Gaz."

. . .

The room was a complete mess. Things were knocked over, the bed was in sweaty shambles, and its sole occupant was on the floor, on her back, breathing hard and shallow, her body stuck in some kind of sexual contortion. She had tried but none of them work. She threw some through walls and windows. Some were thrown against the floor, denting or cracking some of them. She even used some of the larger ones in her collection so violently that she broke them mid-usage. All the screaming and thrashing she could muster just couldn't keep herself satisfied proper.

Gaz sighed in the face of this great defeat. She had tried all her toys, but the fire was still there, burning the inhibitions she had self-imposed on herself during the past few years. She needed actual contact. She needed a living thing, not something resembling a living thing.

Just as she was reaching under her bed for the last one, the one that even she feared, her phone rang. Gaz began clamouring for the phone, tripping over a long, slender blue toy and ramming her head into her nightstand. Her phone shifted and fell to the floor, further cracking its screen. Gaz then swiped it up and answered it. "Hello…?"

"Gaz?"

"Hey! What's up?"

"Uh, well, the package came today."

"It did?!" Gaz suddenly felt the room rise in temperature, and a familiar pulse returned to her body.

"Yeah, I'm about to try it now."

"WAIT!"

"What?"

"Don't do anything until I'm there!"

"Well, how about you get another disk ready, and I'll do this when you get here and give it to me?"

Gaz considered this.

"…"

"Gaz?"

"… fine."

"Ok! See you in an hour."

Gaz sprang to her feet, only to fall back down. Her legs had become slightly weak in the knees, so she started grasping at her bed to hoist herself back up. After taking a few wobbling steps towards her drawer, she quickly, messily dressed herself in the most skin-tight clothing she could find and then burst out of her room, bag and disk in tow. Gaz darted past her brother, who had just returned home and was heading for his room. The goth managed to throw a drive-by punch to his gut, making him to drop to the floor to clutch his torso, trying to keep his lunch from escaping from his mouth.

By the time he had gotten to his room and thrown up a little into his garbage can, Gaz had already slammed the front door and was on her way to Zim's.

. . .

Zim stared down in incredible shock. It had worked. It had worked too well. Like, how the hell was he supposed to put on pants now? He just stared at it, as it sat in his hand, limp and thick and ugly. *Gir stood staring at it, completely unfazed by the sheer size of it, that and the fact that his boss had it in the first place. The computer beep-booped, then said, "Uh, master?"

"What?" Zim grunted.

"It's, uh, the proximity alarm. Someone has breached the premises." The computer muttered stoically, mechanically.

Zim's heart nearly stopped dead and almost exploded upon the impact of those words.

Gaz was here.

"Shit! I'm not ready! GIR!" Zim bellowed. "Go distract the goth-beast!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Gir's duty mode went full power and rocketed up the elevator shaft and straight to the ground level living room.

Zim smoothed his antennae against his head and sighed. "Alright. Computer?"

"Yes?"

"Execute order number 3791."

The computer made a few _bzzt_ s before going, "3791? I don't think that's in the database."

"What?! The fuck it should be!"

A screen on a jagged, metal arm lowered from a mess of wiring in the wall and zapped itself on for Zim. An electronic directory began sifting through mountains of files, navigating the labyrinthine database in search of this 'order number 3791.'

The computer spoke up. "Sir, I don't believe it exis-"

The flashing stopped and the screen made a small ding. There, in all its abstract silicone glory, was the congregation of code and data known only as order number 3791.

"Uh, I don't remember being programmed with this," the computer muttered.

"Of course you don't. This is my own creation. Designed purely with a very specific scenario in mind." Zim explained as he tapped on the screen, entering security codes and hitting 'yes' on numerous prompts.

"Mating?"

Zim didn't respond, not wanting to tip off the computer to his plan.

"It's mating, isn't it?"

Still no response.

"It's mating."

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Zim, you're gonna mate with the goth beast."

Zim finally grasped the screen, ripped it off the arm which began glitching and jerking around, and launched it into the wiring, setting off an explosion deep within the entrails of the base.

The computer let out a "FUUUUCK! GODDAMMIT, ZIM! STOP LAUNCHING SHIT INTO MY HARDWARE!"

Zim threw two gloved fists far into the air and bellowed "THEN STOP QUESTIONING YOUR MASTER! Execute the order then direct Gaz to my chambers."

"You suck at hidin' shit."

"Fuck off. No good sack o' fuckin' wirin' and codin'…"

. . .

Gaz wanted to be proud of herself for enduring Gir's unblinking stare for a full five minutes, but she kept getting distracted by a wet throbbing coming from between her legs. With teeth gritted and fists clutching the couch, she forced herself into absolute concentration, struggling to be tempted by such infernal desires.

Eventually, the house computer spoke up. Well, it coughed, gagged on… something, then spoke up. "Miss Gaz, he is awaiting you in his chamber."

"Ah, fucking finally," she growled. It was about to time.

But suddenly-

"Uh, he requests that you arrive to his chamber already unclothed."

"What the fuck… why?"

"Don't ask me. His request, not mine."

Gaz looked down at the robot, who was still staring at her.

"Ok, but if either of you try to catch a peek, I'll burn this place down. With all of you in it," she threatened.

The computer and Gir both went "ok." Gir then booked it out the front door, and the computer slowed down its whirring until its presence in the living room was snuffed out completely. Soon, Gaz was all alone. And no sooner had this sunk into her as she clawed her clothes off, down to the pale flesh that she hid from all eyes. Well, all eyes except his.

She marched onwards to the toilet, almost diving into it.

And as she made her way to Zim's chamber, Gaz made a realization.

She was human.

She was _too_ human.

And she was gonna fuck Zim.

Gaz was no longer her old stoic self.

She could feel the desire choke her sense and slap around her brain.

She was a nymphomaniac.

And Gaz felt one of her devilish hands slide down her stomach, the touch nearly making her faint. But she was ripped from her self-indulging to meet her handsome alien and his…

"13 inches. I measured."

. . .

Author's note:

Sorry, guys.

I know this one's short and shitty, but I just moved to a new city and I had forgotten my laptop charger back at my old home, so I had to wait until a family member sent it to my new place in the mail and then had to wait until it got here. But, I'm back, and hopefully, I'll be able to get back into a regular schedule again.

Hopefully this will hold you guys over until the next chapter. Which will hopefully be finished and posted this time next week.

Thanks for sticking around.

Take care, y'all.

~iamcurrentlynothere


	8. Lemon One Point Oh

It hung there like a snake. Gaz hated to think of such a clichéd way to describe the sight she was looking at, but God damn if weren't too accurate. Also, in her lust-addled head of hers, she wasn't exactly in the right mood to describe any of her surroundings. She just wanted to gape at the… _thing_ before her.

Zim cocked his head left, slanting the vision of the vivacious goth in his eyes. "Is… there a problem?" He asked with unusual tenderness. Gaz then shook herself from her gaze, and sucked the saliva hanging from her lip back into her dry mouth.

"N-n-no… no no, no problems here. No problems… whatsoever…" Gaz continued to stare at it. Zim frowned. "I think it worked too well, personally. I mean, look at it! I can't even put on pants!" He grasped it, bounced it a bit, then let it drop. The alien stumbled forward slightly, shocked at its weight. It swung side to side for a bit before falling still. Zim shrugged. "I compared it to pictures of human phalluses and it seemed to match all of them. It has the head, shaft, even testicles. But all of aspects of it are exponentially bigger than most phalluses. Will this even work properly?"

Gaz was still staring, totally lost in it. Zim sighed. "Hey, tits-for-brains, you listening?" This got her attention. "Excuse me?" Gaz barked at him, shocked at his language. "You heard me. Is this beast of a thing what you wanted? This gonna work properly?" Gaz marched right up to him and raised her hand, primed for a backhand, but was then stopped by three black claws around her pale throat. "Oh, no no no. Not this time. I'm gonna do the slapping around here," growled the alien. The goth's eyes went wide as Zim's handle on her windpipe tightened. She gasped for air, not in desperation, but in absolute bliss. She closed those ambers of her, taking it this moment of restraint, when a crisp slap flew across her face. As the stinging arose in her cheek and she forced herself to look at him, she found herself staring dead into a red hell, eyes of gleeful malice.

"What the hell are you gonna do to me…?" Gaz could only gasp out. Once she had finished her question, she felt a long, hard, throbbing _something_ rise up between her thighs. She could feel only a portion of the length between her legs as rubbed up against her.

Zim's jagged grin met her own open mouth, his segmented tongue inviting itself in. She moaned and accepted it, playing faux defender to her newfound invader. The alien muscle began slithering down her throat, leaving splashes of electric saliva in its lustful wake. Gaz lost herself in it all, and moved her thighs up-down on Zim's green member. A low purr poured from Zim's throat, obviously feeling her heat against his new bodily addition.

Once the tongue play became dull, Gaz's mouth let go from Zim's. She gave no smirk nor smile, but instead a willingly open maw, drooling. He loosened his clutches and let her breathe. "How's that for a start?" He asked. Gaz's eyes rolled back into her skull in a daze, her head rolling around her shoulders loose and relaxed. When her face came back to his, she flashed that ol' devilish grin and grabbed the massive green muscle. Gaz throttled it, sending Zim into small fits of pleasure. Her elegant, thin hands caressed the beast, first slowly then progressively faster. She moved her leg so that she could behold it in all of its veined, meaty glory. She watched as a small amount of a white, thick substance leaked from its rock-hard tip. The throaty groans coming from Zim was enough to motivate Gaz, already throwing herself at the feet of her desires, to go one very big step farther.

She dropped to her knees, placing her face right before the mighty member. It drooled just as she did, hungrily and waiting for meat. She opened her mouth slowly at first, closed it slightly, then shot it open and nearly swallowed it whole (years of practicing with large dildos, you see). Zim almost went into shock as his member filled Gaz's mouth and throat to the absolute brim. After a few moments of getting used to breathing through only her nose, she slowly began to move her head back and forth, sucking up the green sex-meat inch by throbbing inch. Gaz started strong, with loud slurping and gagging noises vibrating on the veiny green skin. Zim, always such a stoic and emotionless creature, remained unmoved by this stimulus, but ohh'd and ahh'd with every slurp upon the member. Gaz's face turned hot red as she struggled for any smidgen of air. She felt faint, losing conscious as she sped up, trying to force swallow the beast whole. She slobbered on every inch, licked every vein, sucked the hard, solid head and massaged it with her tongue. She grabbed onto what she almost confused for baseballs and fondled 'em up, eventually causing Zim to grab the back of her head, and with a clump of purple hair in hand, slammed his member as far as he could, and once he felt the head pass opening of her throat, let out a low loud groan as he unleashed, what Gaz figured, was the most amount of alien semen that she had ever seen, let alone swallowed wholesale. Once the last of the stuff was pumped out into her, he slowly pulled out the member from her throat and mouth, letting the tip pop out of Gaz's mouth. But Zim seemed to pull out early, as once the (surprisingly still erect) member was not even an inch away, one last thick fat load burst from the sex muscle and splattered across her face. She tried to scrape it from her face, but it was sticky, refusing to let go. And when it finally did, it escaped to her massive breasts, where they continued to cascade and then drip to the cold floor in thick, creamy drops.

Gaz breathed heavily, swallowing whatever she could, trying to scoop it all into her mouth. Zim gathered his composure, grabbed a towel from under his bed, and offered it to her. The goth only pushed it away, hungrily going for all the seed she could scrape off of herself. "Throw it in a corner. Don't need it now." Zim shrugged and did as she said.

"Well? He started. "How was that?"

Gaz scrapped the last big handful of the semen and poured it into her mouth, down her throat. Once she had swallowed, she licked her hands clean, looked up at him and said, in one long breath, "that was the biggest cum shot I've ever seen holy fuck your cock is amazing goddamn."

Zim just smirked. It had been a while since he felt this… powerful.

Gaz's eyes went hazy, and she started clawing at her tits, drooling in the presence of Zim's great man-meat. "What do you desire now, master…?" Her voice was breathy, every word some heavy moan. She had not felt like this in… god, years? The barrier had not been broken, it had been decimated, destroyed. All human urges flowed in her, from her head to her toes and everywhere else. She wasn't Gaz the stone-faced bitch, Gaz the denier of emotion and sensation. No no, she wasn't that anymore.

Now, she was Gaz the motherfucking goddamn nymphomaniac-xenophile. And she was gonna wreck this poor little alien boy with the monster cock. She watched as it throb and bob before her, leaking with that alien seed she found herself craving bit by bit. She felt embarrassed. She felt dirty. She felt like a goddess of sexual violation and debauchery, who had ascended from some prison cell in hell, just to devour alien cock and ravish this sexual godsend from the stars.

She felt fucking great. Sexy, even.

Without warning or indication, she hugged the mammoth member with her tits and violently began masturbating it. Zim began breathing heavily, trying to contain himself, but Gaz had him exactly where she wanted him, as much as she hated to admit it. She kept at it, hypnotized by the large drops escaping the dark green tip. She grinned wide and evil-like, taking in the feeling of those big alien balls slapping against the bottom of her breasts. Zim was losing it, his eyes were now rolling slowly back into his head. She sped up with each down-stroke, and moaned with each up-stroke. "My god, you're so hard! Hard to believe you've had it for only a day and you've gotten the hang of it," she cooed as tiny spurts of cum came exploding out, the veins throbbing as it pumped out the thick droplets onto her breasts. Zim struggled to respond, prompting Gaz to say, "don't bother. You'll just ruin the mood. Just enjoy." Soon, another large load splattering flying out, covering her face and tits just like before. Gaz turned full scavenger as she went about trying to catch and save it all. *Zim watched in some morbid curiosity as the goth, on her knees before him, swallowed whole great handfuls of his seed. It was like watching a starved animal devour whatever meager meal it got its claws on.

Suddenly, Zim forced Gaz onto her back, the two falling in some haphazard synchronicity as they collided with the floor. Once she was on the floor and her breasts stopped bouncing, she looked up at the alien, with those hellish red eyes. She looked down between her breasts and saw Zim lining up between her legs.

Gaz closed her eyes, waiting to receive the monster prick, when-

"Hey, tits-for-brains, you listening?" Gaz shook her head. She looked around, finding herself still staring at Zim's new muscle. She was still clothed and not covered in semen, and Zim wasn't on top over of her preparing to give her the absolute thrashing she had been craving for this whole time. She had imagined all of it. Zim was just staring at her in confusion. She had spaced out on thoughts of absurd and ridiculous sexuality gone unchecked.

Her face went hot red.

Zim laughed. "Good to see you back on Earth. Now, you gonna tell me what to do with this?"

. . .

Dib walked in the door expecting to see Gaz sitting on the couch playing her Game Slave 2 or something. But instead, he was greeted with deafening silence. No clacking of buttons, no swearing at any LCD screen, no goddamn nothing. He sighed. It was another fend-for-himself night. He sauntered into the kitchen, swung open the fridge, rummaged around for some kind of nutrition. He found half a pizza pie and two untouched cans of Poop Cola. Dib took it all up to this room and began chowing down as he prepared himself for another long night of mundane transcript work.

As he walked into his room, he noticed that Gaz's door was open just a crack. But there was some kind of blue light flickering on and off. Now, Dib knew better, and there was a possibility that Gaz was in there doing… _something_ , but Dib didn't hear any creaking of bedsprings, so he decided to take a chance and investigate.

He slowly opened the door and slid in. The room was littered with sex toys of varying sizes, from tiny pink torpedoes to large multi-coloured horse phalluses. He shuddered at the sight of them all. He looked around for the source of the light.

Eventually, he found Gaz's laptop and the tiny floppy disk burner it was connected to. Dib saw that the screen was flashing text of some kind. He squinted at it, trying to make the words. It was all too fast, the little blue text, but he caught some key words that made his heart stop.

Within that blue barrage, he saw words like "Irken," "physiological," and…

"reproductive."

Dib went cold, numb. Any light that once shone throughout even the darkest corners of his life was smashed to oblivion by a hammer of possibility. The possibility of Gaz doing it with Zim. Green hands caressing pale flesh. Sleeping with the enemy, _his_ enemy. The world spun before him in a cruel humour as he struggled to find his footing, stumbling and even stepping on and tripping over giant dildos and the occasional stuffed animal. It felt like the darkness had finally broken loose and slithered into his once-tolerable existence. Dib fought with himself as he tried to find answers in the ever-changing wall of blue lit text. It flashed at him, mocking his inferior human processing, but Dib caught what he was looking for. A single line of code, a directory link, repeating sporadically:

"evidenceforSE/anatomicalreports/reproduction."

Son of a goddamn bitch. Gaz was stealing information from him. And he noticed that the archaic whirring was emanating from the disk burner. She was stealing information AND storing whatever she stole on floppy disks.

And then Dib put two and two together. Gaz was stealing all of the evidence, every single fucking morsel of information he had dug up on Zim, and giving it to him. Dib limped back to his room and collapsed onto his floor, writhing as disgusting thoughts of his sister being railed by his sworn enemy… _by her own will_.

With that, Dib vomited. A vile mess of Poop Cola and greasy cheese pizza half-digested and soaked in stomach acids exploded onto the floor as he slowly cried himself into a sleep restless and dark.

The last thing he saw, as his conscious self gave in to the darkness, was Zim's laughing, maniacal face.

. . .

Author's Note:

Welp, sorry this is late. Again. But at least I got a chapter out this week.

Some will be pissed with the cop-out. Too bad. If I wanna have some fun, I will, dammit.

Read, review, follow and favourite.

Take care, y'all.

~iamcurrentlynothere


	9. A Slow Start and a Distraction to Boot

One always remembers their first. It's natural to remember the first time you let someone see you at your most vulnerable, or most confident, depending on what kind of freak you are. Everyone's first time is different. Similarities are unavoidable, but exact replication of individual experiences? Shit ain't possible.

So, of course, Gaz remembered her first time.

Hi Skool, grade 11, locker room. The guy was nervous, ready to burst. Gaz recalled how he was so taken aback by how forward she was being. To be fair, guys in high school never expect a goth girl to just drag them right into the nearest empty room and fuck their brains out.

Porn does weird shit to your head.

Gaz was feeling antsy. Only way to really put it. She had undressed so quickly, the guy thought her clothes were gonna combust or something. Whipped right off, just like that, cloths of black lace gone from her figure in an instant. Oh, curse his wretched young cock, ready to fire off like a machine gun. He was done for, fearing the possibility of being exposed, revealed to be a one-pump chump.

Amazingly, Gaz was able to read all of this from just his face. Oh yes, she was gonna _ruin_ this kid.

The awkward positioning, the discomfort of lying on the bench, his less-than-stellar hard-on (a whole 3 and a half inches of mediocrity) which he fumbled with way too much, and of course, his absolute lack of stamina. Gaz recalled cleaning herself off after about 30 seconds of pain, embarrassment, and no satisfaction. The guy would then go around the skool boasting how he tamed the beast known as Gaz with just his dick, how she was jelly in his hand and she did everything depraved thing fucking imaginable.

He did this for about a week. Then he went missing. General consensus dictates that he was hospitalized then sent to another school. Someone thought they caught Gaz smashing his balls into the pavement behind a dumpster or something when he tried to approach her and initiate sex or something. It was a show to behold, unless you were a guy, of course.

So, that was that. Gaz's first sexual experience. It wasn't exactly the rollicking slice of debauchery all that porn had promised her, certainly not that. She didn't even get off.

That was the last time Gaz had allowed someone of any gender to defile her willingly. And the second person she was about to give the green-light to was right in front of her, buck naked… with a 13 inch dick , slowly rising to hungrily greet her. Her hand kept moved down and forward, trying to grasp it's throbbing dark-green head with her typical dominance, but her fingers wouldn't unfurl, curling back into her palm, trying to deny her the pleasure of handling her new plaything like the boy-toy she originally intended to make of Zim.

It was going swimmingly.

"Uh, Gaz?" Zim felt himself twitch suddenly, most likely in response to Gaz's hand being so goddamn close to the tip.

"Hmm." She just grunted.

"Gaz?"

"Hmm."

"Gaaaaz-"

"GODDAMMIT, I'M TRYING TO CLAIM YOUR… MASSIVE… GREEN COCK. GIMME A MINUTE." After finishing her outburst, Gaz slapped her hand onto the head, grabbing it tightly. Zim let out a yelp-"ACK!"-and flinched as a large glob of something white and thick shot up and splattered itself on to her exposed chest. She let go, aghast, embarrassed to have been soiled so early in their rendezvous. Zim sheepishly raised his hand and moved in to scrap it off her, but she slapped his hand away. She stared him down, eyes narrowed in anger. Goddammit, this guy was gonna be just like her first. She could sense it. Her eyes lowered to the cock, throbbing readily and steadily. Then her eyes went to her chest, glazed over, and saw just how much was in that one little load. It had covered the entirety of the cleavage surprisingly well. She dragged the tip of her index across the skin above her breasts, letting a small bit of the goo accumulate upon it. It was thick, sticky, and smelled of something musky. She felt the rest of it started slide slowly downwards, over her chest, covering them more and more. She felt no immediate urge to clean herself up. At least, not at this moment.

"Agh! It's spewed… something!" Zim sputtered, still getting over the weird sensation that had suddenly blasted through him. He poked at the large member, horrified by what it had done. He hadn't really done his homework. He didn't know it was supposed to do that. Poor guy didn't even realize the full extent of what his newfound appendage was capable of. And one of this magnitude, unbeknownst to him, was a blessing of sorts.

Zim was about to protest going through with this, his mind searching for the placement of certain devices of a surgical nature, until he saw Gaz _licking_ the white stuff of her finger. Her tongue -which was much longer than most human tongues because freak genetics- flicked at it in a kind of slow motion, steadily whipping it all up and curling it back into her mouth. Zim was, frankly, mortified.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded in a shocked state.

Gaz swished it around a bit before swallowing. Her body slightly tremored before sucked the last few droplets from her finger, making a soft _pop_ with her lips. Then she acknowledged the delirious alien, his cock twitching, balls dangling and swollen.

"What? Don't you find this hot?" She asked.

"NO! Well," he looked down then back up, "maybe a little, but still! Why're you doing that?"

Gaz smirked. "To get _him-_ " she pointed at Zim's hard-on "-going."

"Going? GOING?! You gothic pair of walking tits, what the hell are you going on about? You just swallowed some random bodily fluids from a false member! Who knows what's in that stuff!" Zim really was losing it. Gaz still didn't know what the big deal was. She thought she was being pretty sexy, but she guessed she was just infuriating him. She wiped herself off with Zim's pants, then threw it away. He was about to protest, but didn't want to piss her off anymore than he already had. Then, they just stood there, silently. Like Gaz had during her first time. Except it was Zim's first time _this_ time, and not hers. She had an upper hand in this, but more work to do. She sighed. Might as well do this right…

. . .

The last pathetic splurts came a-rocketing from the slit as Dib came into a well-soiled sock. It had been a long day. Not a day of working, but a day of looking at naked bimbos dressed like aliens and big-breasted women getting banged Bigfoot on a set made up like Northern Californian wilderness. Usual stuff, for him at least. He looked down, and saw that the jissom was making another black spot in the big toe space. He sighed, taking it off and revealing the uncut dick. It was decently long, respectably thick, definitely better than average but nothing to rant 'n' rave about. The thing hadn't really seen much action, save for a few floozies from Hi Skool. Dib felt himself slouch deeper into his swivel chair, saddened and despondent, like most days. He shook his head. He should've gone out and done something today, but alas, he hadn't. Dib wiped his tool down with the hardened sock, put on his blue shirt (the one with the face), pulled up his boxers, and went down the hall to the bathroom to clean his hands. Both of sin and jizz that had seeped through threaded cotton.

*He noticed, after a while, that Gaz was still gone. He caught on to this by realizing that he had spent the entire day moaning and going 'oh, yeah' and whatnot, his computer speakers blaring loud fake moans and brute grunting and the rhythm of clapping thighs. Time had whizzed by as he jizzed on and on, and no one was around to slap him upside the head and call him a faggot.

Dib shrugged. It was a nice change of pace. The guy not so much sulked around the house, rather he sort of floated around. The Membrane residence was rarely so quiet, so lacking in energy, so dead to the core. The laboratory below didn't hum and crackle and explode like the days when dear ol' dad brought work home with him. Now, he had decided to leave the house to his kids and just live and work at wherever the hell it was where he worked. With this thought, Dib realized also that he had not one damn idea where his old man worked.

As he thumped downwards along the staircase, he felt his pecker ache and throb with pain in its floppy, flaccid state. He decided to give it a rest, feeling that it'd be up and at it for another few rounds of Bavarian Bitches 7: Babes 'n' Brats. The living room sat still, so maybe he'd be able to catch a rerun of Mysterious Mysteries of Strange Mystery before retreating to his room and terabytes of pirated porn. Maybe jack a few pieces of pizza from the fridge? Gaz _still_ wasn't home, so why not? Why not take the whole damn half of the pizza pie? He swiped it from the fridge, grabbed a six pack of New Poop and plopped his lanky self upon the middle couch cushion. Suddenly, the TV came into exploding life, and thus Mysterious Mysteries had begun, promising lurid exposés on mutant hobos from New Jersey and soccer mom succubi who prowl the streets of Suburbia at three in the morning. Dib, in his infinite nerdiness, went about quoting the _entire episode_ as it droned on before him.

Once the episode ended and the last of the pizza was eaten and all six cans of New Poop was downed and crushed and thrown behind the couch, Dib got up. He looked down, and it was still flopped, but it wasn't aching now. He started for the staircase, thinking of large breasts and drooling women, when suddenly, a large bang-bang rap against the door. He swiveled his head lazily to it, just as it went off again. Disturbed, and not exactly caring (or noticing) that his little friend had poked it's swollen head out from that infernal opening in the front of his boxers, standing at attention, ready to squeeze off a big one.

Dib answered the door.

And instead of a disgusted scream and getting labelled as a pervert, he stood in the doorway, mouth agape. And he felt his dick twitch in orgasm, shooting off a nice large load.

Those eyes! Those curves! Those fucking breasts! She stood before him like a fucking goddess, an extra foot taller than him, dressed in a skimpy German police outfit complete with hat and aviators. Who was she? Where the hell did she come from? And did she notice the glob of cum at her feet?

Dib didn't care. The moment she handed him a car explaining that she was a prostitute sent for him, and that her services had been paid for well in advance, the guy took her by the arm, pulled her in, slammed the door, and told her to lie on the couch and get naked. Fortunately, she didn't seem fazed by her messy feet, and he hadn't lost his hard-on.

. . .

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Zim sat on the bed that had come up from a hole in the floor. He sat and slowly stroked himself as Gaz sauntered over and threw her cell phone on top of her pile of clothes (same pile from upstairs, Gir had brought it down). "I used to do it for my dad because he'd get all lonely and shit, working in his lab all day and all night, so I eventually started calling up a local agency to help him out with his… needs, we'll say." Gaz fell slowly to her knees and began crawling up to the alien, who was more than ready for whatever was coming.

Ok, maybe not _ENTIRELY_ ready.

Gaz went right up to it, that long throbbing bastard. She moved her head and examined every popping vein along those thirteen meaty inches, then lightly grabbed at with her hand. Zim retracted his, and Gaz began stroking like he had.

"Ah… so, uh…" Zim tried to speak, but his sharpening breath kept interrupting him. "How, uh, long did you pay her for…?"

Gaz moved her mouth up to the dark-green head, and breathed on it, making it twitch and tingle. "Just long enough to make Dib completely pass out, as well as get your latest floppy disk." She let her eyes follow his balls for a bit, taking in their size and possible contents. She hoped this organic dildo wasn't a limited thing. "Dib's got a thing for German girls or something. He should be distracted for a while."

"Our contract is still on?" Zim asked, surprised to have something like that brought up at this time.

"Yuppers. And you are doing me a favour at the moment," the goth breathed seductively. She grabbed the cock and lowered it slightly, to a reasonable degree for easy access.

"I am?"

Gaz flashed her eyes at Zim. They were hazy, hypnotized, not all there, and yet, far too aware of what she was about to do. Zim groaned as Gaz licked the drooling head, circling her tongue around it. She savoured the pre-cum leaking from it, and she let Zim gawk at the strings of cum laced down her chin.

"Oh, fuck yeah…!"

A/N:

Hey.

It's been a while.

Sorry about that.

Anyway, I'm back.

For now.

Can't promise regular updates, but I'll try.

Expect a new chapter every 2-3 weeks, plus shipping and handling.

Also, new profile picture, new username.

Ya dig?

Sorry.

Read and review.

Glad to be back, and it feels real damn good to be back.

So let's get weirdo, beardos.

Love and strychnine,

~Misery Curtains


	10. An Update (NOT A CHAPTER)

Hello all.

I know this isn't the next chapter or anything. I know what you're probably thinking: Misery, you ass-hat, where the hell is the next chapter? Sheeeeeeit, that shit was promised months ago!

Well, you're right, it was promised ages ago. But given that I've been observing radio silence for so long, I figured that I throw out this little update. Mostly to sooth my conscious.

Alright, so why haven't I updated 'Contract' in forever? Well, there are two major reasons, and I'm gonna quickly go over them.

1\. Major shift in focus. I consider writing my passion, and my calling in life. Fanfiction has always been a way for me to sharpen my skills, as well as show my love for whatever media I chose to show my affection towards. This is really the big reason why I write fanfiction at all. But in the time following the last update, my focus has shifted to doing original stories and developing my own abilities as a writer. To put it simply, I began turning out original stories on a wild streak, so now, my attention has completely turned to that. For now.

2\. Loss of interest. The story has completely fallen apart, in my opinion. My interest in doing an IZ story, and to a lesser extent an erotic IZ story, has essentially left my soul, leaving me with no desire to continue at the moment. I don't want to continue a story that I no longer have faith in, that I have no idea how to salvage or take in a direction I can be ok with. It probably goes to show how much of a failed experiment in erotica this was for me. I know you folks have been hooked for this long, and while I have no clout or reputation to uphold or protect, I should point out that I'm mostly partially abandoning this story for the time being for my own reasons. Sorry, I suppose.

So that's that. A loss of interest and a shift in writing focus. And here's what gonna happen: I'm gonna write and maybe publish fanfics whenever I can, if I feel the story is worth putting out there. I want to get back to writing fanfics I enjoy, rather than experiment in a genre I'm not familiar with. Will they be IZ themed? Probably not. So, consider 'Contract' on indefinite hiatus.

You guys probably don't care about all this nonsense, but I believe in at least a bit of transparency.

So, yeah.

Stick around if you want.

Love and strychnine,

~Misery Curtains


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